


Happy Returns

by pendrecarc



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Comment Fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendrecarc/pseuds/pendrecarc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The King of Attolia has a unique approach to gift giving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Returns

**Author's Note:**

> For Chash's prompt: "Irene's first birthday married to Gen"

At breakfast Attolia was presented with a covered platter. "Compliments of His Majesty," said the server. Her husband was attending to his oatmeal and did not look up.

She waved a hand, and the server plucked the lid from the tray to reveal a pair of delicate ivory combs that had gone missing the week before.

"For your name day," said her husband, looking up from his breakfast.

She did not look back at him. “How thoughtful, Eugenides.”

***

During her afternoon audiences, her husband interrupted the baron who was attempting to persuade her to reduce the number of troops stationed on his land by holding his remaining fist under her nose. “For your name day,” he said.

The baron stuttered to a halt. Attolia let her eyes drop to her husband’s hand. A thin, golden chain dangling emeralds like bells slithered out from between his fingers and sighed into her lap.

The baron’s mouth dropped open. He had sent her the necklace several days before, hoping to secure this interview. 

“Wherever did you find it, Eugenides,” she said.

He shrugged. “A merchant in the lower city. He tried to cheat me, but he does at least have good taste.”

***

At dinner, between bites, Attolia discovered that her wine glass had been replaced. The new one was gilded and studded with pearls. She’d presented it to Philia’s high priest at dawn in thanks for another year.

She slid her eyes sideways. Her husband met them.

She let out a sigh so quiet not even he would hear, and then she went back to her dinner.

***

That night Attolia waited at her mirror until she heard the rustle of fabric beside her.

“You know that I dismissed the attendant who lost those combs,” she said.

Reflected in the mirror by the flickering light of her lamp, he nodded agreeably. “She was spreading gossip about you.”

“I had serious business to discuss with that baron.”

“He’s in Erondites’ pocket.”

“And was the wine poisoned?”

“No,” he said, “but the high priest of Philia is corrupt.”

“Eugenides,” Irene said, despairing, “I _know_ all these things.”

“Yes,” he said, “but I thought you might enjoy not having to ignore them so energetically.”

“You thought.” Between the bed and the mirror where she sat was a small table. When she’d dismissed her attendants that evening it had been empty. Now there was a small tray with a pair of very familiar, square-cut ruby earrings. She reached over and laid a fingertip on each of them. “For my name day?”

“Do you like them?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you might.”

“Come to bed, Eugenides.”


End file.
